The British Owl
by isadub
Summary: Mulder and Scully are on vacation in Europe. But, as always, the darkness is not so far.


_Timeline:_ just post IWTB

_Thanks:_ Many thanks to Briggitte who is my pertinent beta reader for this story, and who was patient enough with my silly grammar questions. However, I made the "final cut", so it's probable that there are still errors, mistakes and awkwardness in my text. It's all my fault. But I have an excuse: I'm just a native French speaker, and I've learned English at school.

Written for Teresa during the October 2019 X Files Fanfic Exchange.

* * *

**Part One **

That was just wonderland. She was walking lighthearted, under a bright blue sky, along a bucolic smooth path, fingers mingled with his. She was looking straight ahead enjoying the peaceful landscape, feeling his whole comforting presence beside her. Moving quietly forward, she was appreciating this most simple and natural exercise that is walking, entirely welcoming the simple joy of just being with him.

Alas, after what seemed like only a few blissful seconds, her heavenly sensations were blurred by indescribable alterations occurring insidiously all around her. Everything felt weird and spooky, even though she couldn't tell exactly what brought that impression. The strangeness crept into her body, sneaking under her skin, reaching her most sensitive nerves. In no time the landscape had faded out, the sounds of the countryside had vanished, the light had gone, the air had thickened and seemingly froze, but the most unbearable and painful feeling that was suddenly overwhelming her was his brutal disappearance.

Turning around trying to find him in the grey and misty atmosphere surrounding her, she could only perceive a vague big shape fleeing away, gliding a few meters above the floor, flying surprisingly quickly. Compelled to follow this dark figure, her legs burst into motion, her instincts ordering them to run in long and powerful strides. She reached what seemed to be an ancient graveyard, wrapped in an impenetrable fog and an unearthly silence.

Her heart froze instantly in her chest when she saw the horrific scene that suddenly emerged on her right through a disgusting miasma.

"Mulder!" yelled Scully.

"Mulder!" yelled Scully, jerking in the bed.

"Scully, Scully, I'm here. Scully, wake up, it's only a nightmare," whispered Mulder in Scully's ear, while enveloping her whole shivering body in his arms.

He had been awake for a while now but he remained still, watching her sleeping peacefully, one of her arm and her legs still intertwined with his limbs. He could feel his muscles aching and he knew that he should move into a more comfortable position, but he preferred to endure the uneasiness rather than awaken her. She had already shown tiny evidences that she would soon emerge from her sleep, so it shouldn't be too painful for too long. Anyway, his thoughts weren't focused on his own body but on hers, and he wanted to relish the sight of the few parts he could see under the gentle morning light filtering through the curtains.

He was still worried about her and her terrible nightmare she had in the middle of the night, but, in the back of his mind, he couldn't help being happy about it happening. She had needed him viscerally and he had been able to comfort her. He had been just here for her to chase the sudden darkness that had reached her mind and it had worked, rather quickly. Just a few minutes of whispers, reassuring words, physical shielding and gentle strokes had been sufficient to calm her down. Then, after that, well... He was smiling remembering the events, reliving the passionate intercourse that had followed. She initiated it, feeling an urge to make love to him and he was -as always- available and prompt to satisfy her desire, and his own. For a few seconds he thought to tell her when she woke up that she could have nightmares more often, that he wouldn't mind. But he knew it was a bad idea, a bad joke. Instead, he would want to know what had bothered her tonight. She hadn't told him what had frightened her, what horrific sensations and images had made her body shiver so intensely. He hadn't pushed her much, but he would try this morning to make her spill out all the fear, anxiety and bad memories he imagined were still stuck in her brain.

As if she was sensing his thoughts, she opened her eyes.

"Hey... Morning, sleeping beauty..." whispered Mulder, after a long moment of locking eyes.

"Hi..." replied Scully, still a bit dazed by sleepiness.

"Feeling well?"

"I think so."

"Glad to hear it... And I would be fulfilled if you could just shift your body. I'm afraid I can't feel my left arm anymore... Let's cuddle while you finish to wake up your cells," proposed Mulder.

"Oh... of course."

Even though he wanted to lay more comfortably, his suggestion was highly strategic. He knew that their favorite cuddle position, her back against his chest, his face nestled in her neck, would allow him to dig into her inner thoughts more easily. He inhaled the sweet scent of her hair and took his chance.

"Scully... You scared me tonight. We're supposed to be on vacation, especially you, and I won't allow any of our tourist activities to give you nightmares. Did all the old sinister historical stuff underneath the Parisian atmosphere get under your skin?"

She allowed herself a few seconds before answering.

"No... I don't think so. Sure, some of the _gargouilles de Notre-Dame_ were frightening."

"There's more to frighten you. _Quasimodo, les catacombes, le Fantôme de l'Opéra, la guillotine, le cimetière du Père-Lachaise_..."

"Hmm... maybe that last one. There was a graveyard... but... no... don't think so... it wasn't at all the same place... and it seemed more British or American rather than French," interrupted Scully.

"Could you just tell me what you remember?

"Well... I'm not sure I want to relive it."

"Come on... Throw out all your memories so that you could start a new day with a lighter mood," insisted Mulder.

"Okay... We were together, I was happy, and suddenly I lost you. And when I finally saw you... that was horrible... You... I can't..."

"Go ahead... please..."

"You... you were lying on a tombstone, completely... deathly... still. There was this huge creature on top of you, its claws sinking into your bloody body... One leg on your face, the other on your crotch..." said Scully. She made a pause, then inhaled a long breath.

"Glad it wasn't real," replied Mulder, moving slightly his hips against Scully's back. He promptly regretted his words and his move, hoping that they wouldn't stop her from continuing.

"Its... its head was bent down on your chest, digging deeply towards your heart. And then, it raised its head, looking straight at me... I realized it was as animal as it was human. Its face was... flat and white... its eyes huge and wide open... I could swear it was smiling at me, taunting me. And there was something familiar in the face... then I woke up."

"Hmm... What kind of animal?" asked softly Mulder.

"A bird of prey, a night one. A kind of giant owl, I think."

That last detail made Mulder twitch his head lightly. Hopefully, Scully didn't notice his reaction.

"Wow... scary stuff... Do usually owls scare you?" replied Mulder.

"Not at all. I love Hedwig. She's cute."

"Remember, 'The owls are not what they seem...' By the way, I wonder if one day we'll see again FBI Agent Cooper and his Diane... and maybe that lovable Agent Denise. Don't know why, I feel connections with this series."

It made Scully smile and relax, and that's what he intended. He needed a pause from the conversation -now he was the one feeling uncomfortable-. He didn't know what to do exactly, what to say to Scully. He didn't know yet if the link he had made between his project and her dream was really important, if it was significant. Maybe it was just a coincidence... Maybe he could just wait and see.

After a few silent minutes, he spoke.

"Scully, are you still okay with continuing our trip in the UK? Are you still willing to let me do my research there and meet the weird people I intend to? I can cancel if you want. We can change our plans. Just stick to a purely vacation trip or go back to the US," proposed Mulder.

"I don't want to change anything. I'm excited about your project. I'm happy to see you having a purpose which seems... reasonable, not dangerous, and that lets you socialize again. And while you're busy, I will enjoy being by myself, visiting the charming British countryside."

"Yes... but... I will be investigating the primitive paranormal and the great mysteries buried in the ancient soils. Maybe I will awaken some dark forces... We agreed to keep away from the darkness for a while. And so far we have succeeded, in the bright paradisiac beaches and in the town of love. But now... I'm afraid that my future actions might attract it."

"Come on... You just want to write an obscure book, collect ancient creepy facts and spooky testimonies, encounter local old mad folks, and hold boring conferences in front of weird nerd villagers!"

"Er... that seems soooo pathetic when you say it like that."

"I'm teasing you, spooky honey. I'd want to read your book. I want to be your first reader. Mulder... it was just a dream, a bad dream."

"I wouldn't want it to be a premonition."

"I'm not a psychic, Mulder. And what? A giant evil British owl?" mocked Scully.

"Well... You never know..." concluded Mulder after a few seconds.

* * *

**Part Two**

They had been in Great Britain for ten days, enjoying the whole charming and appealing package you get when you visit the Old Continent as Americans. They have found their own daily rhythms, Mulder busy mainly in the mornings and early afternoons -researching, investigating, encountering, listening and writing-, while Scully could rest, visit and discover at her own slower pace. They get together in mid-afternoons and evenings, Scully sharing in detail all the treasures she has found. They would then experience some of them together or go for novelties they could both relish. Mulder doesn't -or rather isn't allowed to- communicate his paranormal discoveries. That is the hardest part for him, and he can't help occasionally launching into some evidences about the subjects he's found. However, they aren't huge spoilers. Scully is often vaguely aware of the weird lore haunting the places they are visiting. Moreover, there are so many tales about ghosts -well, how couldn't there be?-, witches, werewolves, or vampires, that she can't tell whether Mulder is really into these obviously spooky public phenomena or into some subtleties and hidden facts she hasn't heard of.

They obviously spent a few days in Scotland and had a good time visiting Loch Ness. On this trip Scully has entirely gone along with Mulder, reliving fond memories of lake monsters -could ducks be regarded as ones?-, an unexpected shipwreck, and a wholehearted conversation on a rock. In a pretty isolated place along its banks that they found after an invigorating walk, Mulder even built a kind of memorial with natural elements in honor of Queequeg. He shyly confessed to Scully that he hadn't been supportive enough when his death had happened, and it's something he isn't proud of. Scully has appreciated this lovely gesture and sincere avowal.

So, in a nutshell, they are at this moment simply happy. And no British darkness has shown up so far, not even in their dreams.

As Mulder is driving toward his destination, many thoughts are struggling in his mind and a faint uneasiness is sneaking under his skin.

When coming back to South England after their northern getaway, Mulder has reorganized his -then their- schedule, avoiding places that had seemed like safe territories back in the US. He has cancelled his investigation about the vampire William Doggett in Dorset... If Scully had only heard the name what memories would have then emerged in her mind? Sad ones? Bittersweet ones? Subtle signs of melancholia have already exuded since Queequeg's remembrance... Not necessarily a bad thing, though. He just wants to end their journey in bliss. He has also avoided passing or staying by Oxford or Arthur Conan Doyle's related locations, this for his own past-cursed mind's sake. And then, they have reached the lovely Cornwall, where Scully intends to follow Daphne du Maurier's footsteps. In the hours to come he's going to investigate a case that he doesn't want to skip. And this one is the problem. His current destination is far enough from Scully's touristic areas, which is a good thing -Scully won't be aware of his subject matter and won't worry about him-, or maybe, maybe, a bad thing -what about her nightmare? Is she or is he in danger?-. He couldn't decide.

In danger? Because of the Cornish Owlman of Mawnan Smith? An owl-like creature seen only a few times since the seventies? That's childish.

Yet, he has avoided the word "owl" since Scully's bad dream.

"Scully, it's me," says Mulder in his cellphone.

"You okay? Where are you?"

"Oh yeah! I'm here, you know, in Cornwall. It's just that... er... I won't be with you today, or even tonight. There are some... some very troubling recent facts I want to check here. After the sunset, and... er... maybe during the night."

"But, Mulder... You are not supposed to investigate actual cases. Remember?"

"Oh, yes! It's just that... er... well... there's definitely something here... and my guts are telling me... and well... but if you think that... "

"Okay, stay as long as you want," interrupted Scully.

"You sure?"

"Definitely. Enjoy yourself!"

"Oh, thanks... I didn't think you'd agree. Are you enjoying yourself?... Scully?... Scully?... Are you there?"

"Oh shit!" says Mulder out loud. She hung up on him! He turns back and apologizes, waving a hand towards the few people standing in the middle of the church, staring inquisitively.

He wonders if he should text Scully, send her a message asking if she really doesn't mind. Well... later... He promises himself he would text her on a regular basis for the hours to come, even if she doesn't answer back. For now, he has to gather more information, and prepare a stake-out in St. Mawnan Church's graveyard...

A thrill of anticipation is running along his spine. He's truly as excited as a child before Christmas. Still, slight ripples of guilt and uneasiness keep moving through his skin and nerves. He chooses to ignore them.

Chewing some sunflower seeds and uncomfortably settled on the windowsill, Mulder is watching the graveyard from the Church Tower. He's been here for a few hours and he now wonders why the hell he's doing this to himself. And to Scully. He checks his phone again, expecting more than the evasive and shocking-short answers she has texted back. She must be pissed off and it's too late to change it. He should have known better, he should have thought twice, he should have let the mature man overtake the boyish one, he should have... He breathes deeply and takes solace in the sight from his perch, staring at the sea glittering under the moonlight and a cloudless starry sky.

Well... just one more hour and he'll leave... He would then have time to go back to the hotel before dawn, to crawl slowly under the sheets and to move little by little toward Scully. Then, he would dive his nose in her hair, smell her warm scent, and put his fingers lightly on her delicate...

A sudden noise breaks him abruptly from his fantasy and causes his closed eyes to fly open. Dammit! Something is moving amid the graves!

What the fuck? He can't explain what he sees, what it means... He stares at the tomb, quite puzzled by all the little square papers discarded over the stone. On all the papers, one single word. "FOX" in capital red letters. On the grave, one name. "FOX, Cuthbert". Well... at least it's not him. What the hell is happening here? The mysterious intruder has vanished leaving only these spooky notes.

Still confused and crouching absent-mindedly to pick up one paper, he doesn't sense the creature about to pounce on his backside.

Laying on his back in unbearable pain, he can't breathe and he can't move his limbs anymore. Something threatening is bent over him and has hooked his head, some wild creature has grasped his balls in the most excruciating way.

He hears a harsh whisper in his ear, weird words about a three-pipe problem and then, he faints.

* * *

**Part Three**

"Mulder... Mulder, it's me... Mulder... It's me, you're safe."

"Scul... mmh... Scully? I can smell your lovely scent, Scully. Is it heaven?"

"Mulder, please, open your eyes."

"Scully? You here? You okay?"

"Mulder, I'm fine."

"Scully... beware of the... the Owlman."

"Mulder, don't move anything yet... Stay lying down... This woman? This bitch? Don't worry, she's completely gone, now."

"Woman? I saw wings, claws and a beak."

"Just a cape and a mask. And fucking bitch fingers and nails."

"Bitch?"

"Yes, the bitchiest British demon female I've ever known! She played a mean prank on you, Mulder. This witch, Phoebe, has become madder than ever... Aging, I guess."

"But... How and when did you... Hey! What are you doing with your hand?"

"I'm checking that you have no concussion or wounds on your head."

"I mean the other hand..."

"Oh! This one! She squeezed you so badly there... I'm just doing some medical palpations... I want to be sure... er... it's all functional."

"Mmm... Well... mmm... Don't stop..."

"I won't."

"Mmmm... But, Scully... what the hell have you... Wow! What are you doing now with your mouth?"

"Shhhh... sshhttupp... honnn..."

"Mmm... yyessss... mmmm... Scully! That's weird! It's written Scully!"

"Mmmwwattttgainnn?... Oh! Scully's grave? Isn't that fun, just close to the Fox one. We're meant to be here, my foxy Fox. Relax and don't think too much... There... mmmm... my gooood boyyyy..."

"Oohhh... Thank God... Scully! You can't do that... It's a graveyard... There's a church..."

"Could you just shut up and relax? I need to replace that horrific image of my nightmare with another lovely one. One fucking memorable youthful indiscretion."

"Wow, fuck! I'd agree on that. I have one to forget too... Mmm... yeaaahhh... I'm definitely in Heaven."

"_Hoo! Hoo! Hoooo!_"

"Scully? There are glowing eyes... Something is watching us and is shouting at us..."

"Nooowwaaattt?... Oh, that? It's just an owl, a real owl."

"Spooky!... Mmm... yyyessss... Scull... Woww..."

"_Hoo! Hoo! Hoooo!_"

"Doc, am I now allowed to move and get some action?"

**The End**

* * *

_Notes:_ Thanks to some online research, it seems that the Owlman of Mawnan and the vampire William Doggett are "true" things. I apologize for the people living in Mawnan Smith and close to St. Mawnan Church, I don't mean you could be weird nerd villagers. More seriously, I don't mean to offend any members of the FOX family and the SCULLY family. There are indeed tombstones with these names in the Church graveyard (you can find the information online), and it was too tempting to use these facts for my story. I apologize for the final scene happening in the graveyard. Less seriously, I think that the tombs are not as close in reality as I imagined them.


End file.
